Yesterday I overheard someone talking about how he was taking classes at the University of Maryland because they offer free tuition if you’re over 60.
My brain IMMEDIATELY began scripting a screwball comedy in which a broke millennial who desperately want to finish his long-abandoned degree but is drowning in student debt pretends to be a senior citizen in order to attend college for free.
I’m picturing someone Channing Tatumesque, applying age makeup every morning before he heads off to class. It’s sort of a cross between 21 Jump Street and Mrs. Doubtfire. He keeps forgetting which hip is supposed to be his bad one. His classmates laugh every time he uses slang. There’s definitely a scene where he attends a college party and busts it up on the dance floor.
He catches the eye of a fellow returning student, a woman in her 50s, but she thinks he’s like 70 and she’s already buried one husband, you know? She’s not interested in doing that again. When his charade unravels (hilariously) at the end of the movie, though, she finds out he’s actually like 30 and has abs you could bounce a quarter off. And he’s still super into her. And really, maybe it’s time she gave May-December romance a chance.
Before the campaign starts, individually tell each person that they’re secretly a double agent infiltrating the main group and is working for the villains and it’s going to be a huge plot twist in the story. Give them a cue on when to reveal that they’re evil. When you give the cue, everyone will reveal they were a double agent working for the same people so there was no group to infiltrate.
character concept: the best trick archer in the world, the trick to which is that he’s actually not an archer at all, he’s a speedster and he can’t aim for shit, every time he takes a shot he actually just grabs the arrow, runs over to what he wants to stick, then runs back before anyone can see him move
he’s on a team with Heat Vision Man, who actually has no heat vision and is another speedster, he just glares at people then runs over and punches them and is back before they can see him move
(the entire team is actually just composed of speedsters who all use
their speed in different ways, and they all pretend otherwise in front
of their teammates)
New goddess idea: She’s an earth goddess of the new age who’s domain is spinning and weaving, but specifically spinning and weaving gigantic structural steel cables for construction and other industrial purposes. Her skin is steel grey and hard to the touch and her hair is like long dredlocks of woven steel. She laughs at shitty architecture deigns that will fall apart if actually built and protects well-made bridges and buildings she likes. She might warn you of unforseen danger if you always wear your proper PPE.
Okay now what do I name her
O’sha.
Obviously
THAT’S PERFECT
I AM ALWAYS HERE FOR QUALITY WORKPLACE SAFETY REGULATION PUNS
That’s my goddess. 👍🏻
May O’sha bless you with earplugs that are comfortable and respirators that fit perfectly.
the only divinity where you don’t take your hat off in the temple – you put your hat ON.
At long last, The Chosen One has been discovered. Working as a cashier. With no interest in doing anything even slightly more difficult.
yeah because there is nothing more difficult than retail
tbh anyone who works/has worked retail would see the chance to go around saving the world in ways that could potentially kill them as a welcome vacation
“Does the position of Chosen One offer health benefits of any kind?”
“Well, our ragtag gang of world-saving underdogs has a doctor on-team.”
“Do I have to pay her out of pocket, is what I’m asking.”
“Gosh no! She’s an idealist, you don’t pay her at all!”
“Oh! That’s nice. But then I guess there’s no paycheck.”
“I mean, the secret cabal that dispenses our orders does make sure we have enough money to feed ourselves and keep a roof over our secret lair and such.”
“Hourly?”
“Hourly what?”
“Like have you guys ever had to punch a time clock?”
“We once had to dismantle a sinister time-freezing device in the shape of a clock….otherwise no.”
“Sold. Off we go.”
“do i have to be nice to people who are yelling at me?”
“we’re the good guys, you can’t kill random civilians just because they’re mean!”
“kill?? no, i mean, can i tell them off.”
“well, sure, of course.”
*rips name tag off shirt and tosses it over shoulder* “i’m your huckleberry.”
“I once asked my friends if they’d ever held things that gave them a spooky sense of history. Ancient pots with three-thousand-year-old thumbprints in the clay, said one. Antique keys, another. Clay pipes. Dancing shoes from WWII. Roman coins I found in a field. Old bus tickets in second-hand books. Everyone agreed that what these small things did was strangely intimate; they gave them the sense, as they picked them up and turned them in their fingers, of another person, an unknown person a long time ago, who had held that object in their hands. You don’t know anything about them, but you feel the other person’s there, one friend told me. It’s like all the years between you and them disappear. Like you become them, somehow.”
honestly i really want a silly movie where a historian is haunted by the ghost of the person they study most. not creepy, scary haunting, but ridiculous “they won’t stop looking over my shoulder while i write my thesis and making annoying comments” haunting, where the ghost gives the historian a bunch of tips about their life and times and it’s all super helpful but at the same time the historian has to find a way to prove everything the ghost is telling them because the ghost wont reveal themself to anyone else. kind of like a weird buddy cop except it’s more “supernatural research partner.” and the ghost is like the worst roommate ever and occasionally says something really weird/terrible because they’re from a different time period and the historian gets really frustrated with them a lot but at the same time they get to be really close buddies over time
A cleric who is the Team Mom and only heals by kissing you on the forehead and buffs you by licking her thumb and rubbing away some schmutz on your face
someone’s like “you know that’s not actually required for your job” and she’s like “shhhhh my beautiful child, my healing my rules, I made you a potion, it’s chicken noodle mana”
Their holy sigil is a macaroni necklace you made in second grade. You didn’t know them in second grade. You’re not sure how they got that macaroni necklace. You ask them about it, and they just slip you a twenty and tell you to get whatever you want at the food court. “What is a food court?” you cry, but it doesn’t matter because they summoned a hero’s feast and everything tastes wonderful, and at some point you crawl into their lap to cry about something you thought you were adult enough to handle.
“This is you handling it,” they say. “You’re never too big to ask your mom for help.”
“You’re literally not my mother,” you sob.
“But metaphorically,” they say, and you’re like truuuuuuuuuu and sob a little more before they tuck you into a bedroll because you’ve got a big day tomorrow stopping an assassination at a royal palace
jinlinli 